


Hard Liquor

by ladielazarus



Category: Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladielazarus/pseuds/ladielazarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kitty Pryde and Pete Wisdom share a drink and a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Liquor

"Nah. That weren't how it went." He tips the bottle back towards this mouth again, the burning liquid falling down his throat. It was cheap, and it'd made him cough the first few times, but they were both beyond that now.

"That's how I remember it." Kitty shakes her head.

"That's cause yer drunk." Pete observes sagely.

"'M no—" She stops the token objection halfway through. There's no point. They both know she's hammered. Instead, she reaches for the bottle.

The motion brings her arm over his stomach, and he holds the bottle out of her reach so that she's forced to crawl halfway across him in order to bring it close enough to grab.

She's not sure when they realize that she's lying pretty much on top of him, but she knows it happens at the same time for both of them because their sudden intake of breath is simultaneous, and then, when brown eyes find intense blue ones, he's not smiling anymore.

Their first kiss in five years is similar to the first one they shared on the Midnight Runner way back when she still wasn't sure what exactly came after kissing, and he wasn't sure if she should be getting mixed up with a fuck up like him.

They've only gotten better.

She straddles his waist, grabbing his shirt, and he responds by groaning deep in his throat and continuing to kiss her as though she's his only link to life. He's always kissed her like that.

She's always loved it.

"Shift, luv…" He grunts out, lifting her upward so that he can get his hands underneath the hem of her shirt and pull it off.

Their lips find each other like heat-seeking missiles again, and he uses to opportunity to divest her of her bra, as well.

His hands are on her breasts the minute that they're exposed to the air, expertly soothing the building ache. His hands move over them as though mapping them. On some level, Kitty figures that that's exactly what he's doing, and she gasps, pulling her mouth from his to sit back and start working on his shirt. However, at the same time, she can't help pausing to enjoy the sensation for a moment.

It's been too long since she's felt his hands on her.

She gets the shirt unbuttoned and shoves it open, leaning forward to kiss and lick her way down his throat and across his collarbone, taking advantage of his mild distraction to phase the shirt out of the way.

If he's amused by her eagerness, he doesn't let on. Instead, he shifts around, getting his hands to the waistband of her jeans, working the fasteners quickly and deftly before sliding one hand down the front.

"Hold—" She barely gets the whole word out before he's kissing her again, and she kicks her now intangible jeans and panties off into wherever. She doesn't really care.

Ordinarily, she would make him undress her the regular way, but if they stop to do that, then he might want to talk about it, and she doesn't want that. And so, she quickly disposes of his pants and underwear the same way, removing the need to talk at all.

He's rolled them over and is inside of her so fast that he gets two or three thrusts in before she picks up the rhythm. She does, though. He taught her well.

It's hard and fast and oh so good, and she can't figure out how she's been doing without it so long.

She doesn't think there's any way this can last long enough, but then he changes the angle abruptly, and she comes hard. He follows her soon after, and she figures that his shift in trajectory was no accident.

He collapses beside her on the carpet, and they lie there, breathing like they've just run a marathon.

A few minutes later, she sighs heavily, levering herself up to look for her clothes. He looks as though he's going to object for a moment, but, instead, he gets his own clothes together.

Once she's dressed, she drops back down onto the floor, leaning her back up against the couch. He sits next to her, his shirt still unbuttoned, but otherwise dressed.

She picks up the bottle again, taking another drink before holding it out to him.

He takes a drink of his own.

They pass several moments that way before she speaks.

"Okay, maybe I remember it wrong."

"I told yer."


End file.
